


Condolences

by Duck_Life



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Jean Dies A Lot, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 11:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3648279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tale of two phone calls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Condolences

The phone feels too cold. Though, given who he’s calling, Warren figures it’s apropos. On the other line, the phones rings twice before a stranger picks up and asks bluntly, “Who’s this for?”

Warren can picture the dorm hallway at UCLA, littered with twenty-year-olds cramming for finals, with one lone telephone down at the end. “Uh… can I speak to Bobby Drake?” He waits. Over the phone, he can just barely make out the sound of the college student stomping away, banging on a door, calling out, _Drake! Phone for you!_

A moment later, Bobby picks up. “Hello?”

And oh, God, he sounds exactly the same. Every fucking thing is different but Bobby sounds the same, and Warren’s not sure he can go through with this. “Hey,” he says, putting his free hand up against the wall of the mansion, needing the support. “It’s me.”

“Warren?” He can tell that Bobby can tell something’s wrong, can read the pain in his voice. “What’s up?”

 _You can do this. You’re an X-man. You’re a_ man, _dammit._ “Shouldn’t tell you like this,” Warren manages, grasping wildly for the right words. “It- it should’ve been in person. But, Jesus, I keep thinking about you over there not knowing, having no idea, and… and you should _know_.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“I know,” he sighs. “Sit down, Bobby.”

Bobby doesn’t say anything, but Warren wonders if he’s instinctively shaking his head, not thinking. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“You need to sit down.”

A moment, then—he can hear a soft sliding noise as Bobby sinks to the floor. He pictures that hallway again, sunlight slanting in through a tiny window, Bobby coiled up against the wall. “What the hell happened, Warren? Is it Lorna? The Professor? What-”

“It’s Jean.”

And that’s the worst part, really, that Bobby isn’t even thinking of her. In all his worst-case scenarios, all his nightmares, it never occurs to him that something bad might happen to Jean. She’s a constant presence, always there, never more than a phone call away. Even now after the old team’s split up, she’s still a friend, a teammate, a sister, to him, someone to meet up with for lunch, someone who knows exactly what to get him for Christmas (and Hanukkah), someone to call for advice.

“What?” he gets out, and his pulse is pounding in his neck and it feels like all the air’s been flushed out of the narrow hallway. “What do you- is she-”

Warren’s stomach feels like a giant lead weight. “She’s dead, Bobby.”

Silence. He can’t even hear Bobby’s breathing. Then- “Are you _sure_?”

And, well, there’s no good way to answer that. Yes, he’s sure, he was on the moon, he saw Scott’s expression. He saw—tried to avoid seeing, really—the ugly scorch mark on the ground. But how can he say any of that to Bobby, who’s trying so desperately not to believe it?

“Dammit. Sorry. Of course you’re sure,” Bobby says, and Warren almost wishes he hadn’t told him. The guy sounds _broken_. “Was she…” he starts, but then cuts himself off. “Shit. Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Warren says, and immediately feels like an idiot. What isn’t?

“I… I think I froze the floor. I mean, I definitely froze the floor.” The sound of movement on the other line. Warren imagines him standing up, wrangling with the phone cord while skidding over a fresh patch of ice, all the while holding back tears. “Shit.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Warren says, as if he can fix any of it. That’s all he’s been trying to do since Lilandra brought them back to Westchester—fix things. Fix things that can’t be fixed. He’s covering the funeral costs. He’s been taking over for Hank and playing the Professor at chess, even though he sucks at it, just to keep Charles’ mind off Jean. (Of course, when she’s all _Warren_ can think about… he can pretty much guess that spending time with the Professor isn’t doing as much good as he hoped.) “Listen,” he says. “The funeral’s next week. I… I think it would be good if you could come as soon as possible, though.”

“Right,” Bobby says, his voice thick. “Right. Um… God, how is Scott doing?”

“He’s…” Warren’s really not in the mood to give his friend any more bad news. “Hank’s been taking care of him.”

“Good. That’s… that’s good.” He sniffs, audibly, and Warren knows he’s started crying. “Warren… how…?”

“It—the Phoenix,” he starts, but how the hell do you explain something like this over the phone? He’s not even sure he can explain it to himself. “You should probably just wait ’til you get here.”

“Warren-”

“She saved a lot of people, Bobby,” he says, because he knows that’s true. Somehow, in the grand fucked up scheme of things, that’s true. Bobby exhales, probably still crying, but says nothing. “You gonna be okay?”

“No,” he says, honestly. “Maybe. I’m flying over there as soon as I can.”

“Good,” Warren says, and he’s sickeningly relieved. He needs someone to talk to. Scott’s a mess, and Hank spends all his time keeping him from destroying himself. He still doesn’t mesh well with the newer X-men, and the Professor’s so caught up with problems with the Shi’ar and negotiations with Kitty Pryde’s parents that he barely has time for conversation. “See you soon, Bobby. And… I’m sorry you had to hear this over the phone.”

“Yeah, thanks for, uh… thanks, Warren.” Another big sniff. Warren wonders if anyone’s heard him and come out into the hall, if another student is there mouthing, _What’s wrong?_ “See you,” says Bobby, and he hangs up, leaving Warren standing in his own silence and wondering what the hell he’s supposed to do next.

Life does what life does best—it goes on. Team rosters switch and shift, people come back, things fall apart. Warren loses his wings and gets new ones. Scott’s a husband and a father, and then suddenly neither. Jean’s dead, and then alive.

At Scott and Jean’s wedding, Warren can’t help but notice that Bobby’s wearing the same suit he wore to Jean’s funeral.

And then just as soon as their marriage has started it begins to fall apart. Warren sees it, in the few times he visits them. They never were the same after Scott’s time with Apocalypse. In Scott and Jean’s marriage, Warren spots the fissures and the cracks.

And then there’s a crater in Manhattan.

Warren’s thumb hovers over Bobby’s name in his cell’s contact list as he tries to find a reason not to do this. In the end, he presses send, listening with a heavy heart to the ringing. Bobby picks up after a second. “Hello?” And Warren can’t find the words. How the hell do you make this phone call twice? “Hello? Warren?” he says, but there’s nothing but silence.


End file.
